Catcher in the Rye Ten years later
by The Whipcracker
Summary: Holden's life, ten years in the future. I first wrote it for my American Literature class, but since it got a good grade, I decided to upload it here.


Title: Catcher in the Rye-Ten years later

Fandom: Catcher in the Rye

Genre: General/Drama

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Don't own Catcher in the Rye, or any of the characters in it. Don't sue.

Summary: Holden's life ten years in the future.

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I don't know how briefcases get so heavy, I really don't. I almost couldn't open the door as I struggled into my apartment. Once inside, I dropped my briefcase and looked around. The entire place was a real mess. I felt kind of guilty, not having cleaned it this morning, but I was in a real hurry. My damn boss had called me at the last minute, saying he needed me at the office to finish up a report. To be honest, I hate him, I really do. He's always doing stuff like that, calling me at the crack of dawn or at midnight. I just really wish he'd stop. Doesn't he understand that I'm a human, and that I need sleep too? I guess not. Maybe because he's the head boss, he thinks he's the only real human around here. Maybe he thinks the rest of us are just robots, or something. I don't know what he thinks, but it really does get on my nerves. Sometimes I think becoming a businessman was a mistake. When I applied for the job three years ago, I didn't know it'd require so many hidden hours. Boy, was I mistaken! It's really strange. I've had this job for over two years, and I'm still not used to it.

Once I changed out of my suit, and got into some comfortable clothes, I started to clean up. I mean, _really_ clean up. I cleaned every inch of the living room, bathroom, and my room, and I rearranged and cleaned out all of the closets. I may not seem like a neat guy, but I swear, being in the loony bin all those years ago must've done something to me. The place was wall-to-wall white, and all spick-and-span, just like a regular hospital. My room was always clean, since I didn't have much stuff to make it messy to begin with. But all that freaky cleanliness must have rubbed off on me, I swear. I can't live in a messy place for too long now. If I'm staying at someone's house, I clean up the room I sleep in. Same thing when I'm in a hotel. Usually, everyone thanks me for cleaning up. They don't think I'm weird or anything. Which is a good thing, except that it makes me feel a bit weird myself. One time, when I was leaving a hotel in Portland, one of the maids thanked me for cleaning up the room I was in. She even said to me that I'd done a better job than she would have. Now that really creeped me out. I still haven't forgotten about that, and that was two years ago.

Once I'd finished my mad cleaning rampage, I finally settled down, sitting at my kitchen table, going through the mail I'd received that day. The first three envelopes were just bills. But the last one looked vaguely familiar. I opened it, and smiled. It was a letter from Phoebe. Good Old Phoebe had finally written to me! It had been at least a year since I've received a letter from her. I don't blame her though. She's so busy with college. She's a real good student, too. Got all A's and B's throughout school and in college, too. I think she's majoring in English. It doesn't really surprise me, seeing as she was always a perfectionist with spelling and writing. Hearing about her doing well kind of makes me wish I'd better in school. If I had, I wouldn't have flunked out of three prep schools. After my stay in the psych ward, I did a lot better in my new school. I always wondered why all those psycho annalists always asked me if I'd apply myself in school when I got out. I never knew if I would or not, but I guess I did, because I improved a lot. I did better in college, too, although not as good as Phoebe. Really, I'm not jealous of her at all. I'm really glad that's she's doing so well. It makes me proud to be her brother.

I lowered my eyes to the letter and began to read it.

_Dear Holden,_

_Sorry it's been so long since I've written you. I've been so busy with all of my work, I never had a single second to do anything other than school work. As you know, Easter vacation is coming up, and I want to come visit you. I've got some news for you as well, but I can't tell you what it is until I see you. I'll be coming to visit on the fourth. Can't wait to see you._

_Love,_

_Phoebe_

I put down the letter, thinking hard. I was really happy that she was coming to see me, but what about the news she had to tell me? I had a feeling it was bad, since she couldn't put it in writing. But how bad could it be? I felt nervous rather than happy for the next two weeks. I wish I hadn't felt so damn jumpy, but the way she made it sound in her letter didn't sound good. I just had to wait for her arrival.

On the day of the fourth, I made sure my apartment was as clean as it could be. I didn't want Phoebe to think I was a complete slob. I wasn't sure if she'd be spending the night, but I cleaned up the guest bed room just in case. I waited for what seemed like hours for her. Finally, as I was kind of nodding off on the couch, there was a sharp knock on the door. I got up to answer it so fast, it seemed like I had disappeared and reappeared in front of the door. I opened the door, and there stood Old Phoebe. She was around twenty years old, but she still seemed like a kid to me, with her long red hair tied back into a ponytail, and the same smile on her face that I'd always known. "Holden!", she cried, throwing her arms around me, squeezing my neck so hard, it felt like she was trying to suffocate me. I hugged her back, grinning, then stepped back to let her inside. She carefully dropped her bag next to the table near the door and looked around. "I can't believe your house is so clean. You remind me of Mother."

"Well, I replied, "staying in that hospital long ago really changed me." For some reason, her expression became solemn as she nodded. The way she looked made my heart drop. I didn't want to make her sad right after she'd just gotten here. Hoping to make her more cheerful, I said, "Want a drink?" She smiled once again. "Sure."

"What would you like?"

"Water's fine."

I headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her. When I came back out to the living room, she was sitting on the couch, looking nervous. I handed her the water, resisting the urge to ask her about the terrible news. But, it was like she had read my damn mind. Before she had taken a second sip of water, she just blurted out, "D.B. is dead." I just started at her. I hadn't heard from D.B. in over two years. The last contact I'd had with him, he'd written a short, crappy letter letting me know how he was doing. That was it. I continued to stare at Phoebe, confused, as she added, "He got hit by a car two days ago as he was leaving his house. Mother called me and told me. She said she tried to call you, but she couldn't reach you." Her voice trembled, and I could tell she was about to cry. I put my arm around her shoulder as she added, "Mother wanted to come here to tell you. She wants us to go back home, so we can go to his funeral." I couldn't say much. I felt like a heartless bastard, but for some reason, I wasn't all that sad. I hadn't really been close with D.B. most of my life. I felt empty and hollow inside when she told me. All I could do was hold her while cried on my shoulder.

The next day, I packed a bag, preparing to leave for a week. We'd take the train back home to where Mom and Dad were waiting for us. We'd get together, and prepare for the funeral. All of it made me sad, when we arrived at our old home, and my parents were a real wreck. I didn't know what to do. I just bluffed my way through all, even through the funeral. Now matter how hard I tried, I couldn't feel sad very much for losing my older brother. All it really did was make me wish he was around more, so I could know him a lot better. But I never got to. I tell you, don't let that happen. Don't let yourself lose contact with family. If you do, it's like you stop knowing them. Then, when you lose them, you don't feel sad, because you didn't lose something important to you. It's one of the worst things that has happened to me. But I guess not everything is bad. I kind of miss him now. I guess that's better than feeling nothing.


End file.
